In the midst of it all, Hari was eating from his small bowl of rice and fish, unsullied by comestible projectiles.
He was currently sitting on the pile of things covering Malfoy, apparently unaware of the war taking place.
Sometimes, without apparent realization, he dodged a ballistic victual.
Several of his housemates had taken refuge under the table and were using their wands to launch a concerted barrage of peas at the Twins, who were already coated in food, but apparently enjoying themselves immensely.
It took several minutes before McGonagall managed to return the hall to order, primarily by transfiguring all flying objects into water.
Once everyone but Hari was soaking wet and covered in sodden food, she cleared her throat.
“There will be a school-wide detention courtesy of Mister Malfoy for starting this fight.” Professor Snape’s mouth opened.
“No, Severus, Mister Malfoy clearly, and in front of all of us, flung the first piece of food.
Now Poppy, if you would please make sure that the students are uninjured.
You can leave Mister Malfoy for last, since he was so enthusiastic about this fight.”
Hari finished his food and proceeded to give his head of house a cheery wave before leaving the room.
Hari made a short stop before going to bed early to see how many housemates tried to kill him.
Hari had laid on the wall above his door and was wide awake when it swung open.
The boy sneaking into his room met his foot coming the other direction and slammed into the wall outside the room with a wet thump.
Hari shrugged and closed his door, wondering if that would be enough to ward off further visitors.
He was awake again when Professor Snape stormed into his room to find him lying on his bed, apparently asleep.
“POTTER!”
“Mrg.
Yes, Professor?” Hari blinked his eyes with “sleepiness” and yawned.
“What can I do for you at this early hour?”
“Explain why Mister Boil is lying in a coma against the wall outside your room!”
“I haven’t the faintest idea, Professor.” Which was true.
He was fairly certain he’d struck hard enough to kill.
“He’s outside your room.”
“Is his hair black, Professor?”
“Yes!
Why?”
“Just curious, Professor.
Besides, I thought you were giving me random facts about him.” Hari swung his legs out of bed and rose.
“I know it’s a bit early, but I’m going to go to breakfast.” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“It’s two in the morning, Potter!”
“You woke me up, so I assumed that early breakfast was being served.”
“I woke you up because Mister Dhal found him lying there.”
“Odd,” said Hari.
“My room is at the end of a cul-de-sac.
There’re only rooms on this side of the corridor.
What was Mister Dhal doing outside my room?
Isn’t he a sixth year and not a Prefect?”
“How did Mister Boil come to lie on the floor outside in a coma, Potter?”
“I thought I already told you I don’t know.
I’m much more interested in why there were two sixth years outside my room.” He yawned.
“Since, as you pointed out, it is two in the morning, would you kindly go tend to your injured student and let me sleep?”
“No, Potter.
You will come with me to see Professor Dumbledore!
This is three attacks already.
I’ll see you expelled.”
Hari shrugged.
“Then if you would let me get dressed?”
“You’ve got your robes on, Potter.”
Hari shrugged and allowed himself to be ushered out of the room, idly noting the splatter of blood where his victim had struck the wall.
How frustrating.
He would need to spend more time working with his Uncles if some idiot sixteen-year-old survived his kicks.
Ten minutes and enough winding corridors that anyone but him would be totally lost later, he was standing in front of a particularly ugly gargoyle in an empty hallway.
Granted, he could see past the wall and knew that there was a passageway on the other side, but still.
He smothered his amusement as Professor Snape started shouting at the statue.
For several minutes, the man devolved into mutterings about old coots who changed their passwords at inconvenient times.
Finally, he returned to his attempts.
“Lemon Drop!
Blood Pop!
Fizzing Whizbee!
Acid Pop!
Klondike Bar!
SNICKERS!” And on and on it went.
“Professor,” said Hari, “did you bring me here so I could witness an exhibition of screaming at inanimate objects?
If so, you’ve done nearly as well as my Uncle.
Now can I go back to bed?”
“No!” Professor Snape kicked the pedestal the gargoyle sat on and began to hop up and down, clutching his foot.
“OPEN YOU BASTARD!” There was a grinding noise as the gargoyle leapt down and stepped to the side, allowing the wall to slide open and a moving staircase to be revealed.
“Interesting password.” Hari slipped by the hobbling Professor and rode the stairs up to a pair of heavy doors, which he pushed open.
“Good morning, Headmaster.”
“Good morning, my boy.” Dumbledore twinkled at him merrily and Hari strangled the urge to kill the man for being so cheerful at this hour.
“Severus, my boy,” the man turned to Snape.
“Why didn’t you just try the password like a normal person?
‘Cockroach Cluster’ would have opened the door without putting on such a show.
Really, do you need such a sense of drama?”
Hari smothered a snort of laughter as the Professor went purple and his fingers flexed.
“You should really see a medic about that color, Professor.” He could tell the man was just this side of a rant that would make Uncle Hidan proud.
“Could you explain why I’m here instead of asleep in my bed?”
“Yes!” Snape began to vibrate with rage.
“This boy, Headmaster, is responsible for three attacks on his housemates!”
“I am not,” interjected Hari.
“He threw a needle into Mister Malfoy’s eye!”
“I did not.”